


The Kids

by PedanticDictionary, Sanrodri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PedanticDictionary/pseuds/PedanticDictionary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanrodri/pseuds/Sanrodri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter arrive at Hogwarts and begin causing trouble for their fathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sorted

“Oi, Alby, are you really that much of a scaredy-cat that you wound up in Slytherin?” James Sirius Potter, at the opening feast, just had to make his way to the Slytherin table to jab at his younger brother. No matter what their dad said, everybody knew he’d be disappointed if any one of his kids wasn’t in Gryffindor, regardless of Harry’s protests to the opposite. Albus Severus Potter, for his part, didn’t react, simply hanging his head a little lower. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of anyway, and now his brother was making it worse. Right on cue, James came up behind his brother and gave him a hearty smack between his shoulder blades. “Chin up, Alby, there’s still hope. Lily probably won’t wind up a Slytherin, ‘cause at least she talks!” James’s Gryffindor buddies laughed around him, and a blonde kid a few seats away – Scorpius Malfoy, Albus remembered hearing his name on the train – stood up where he was.  
  
“Just like you Gryffindors, isn’t it? Picking on a kid for where he got sorted,” Scorpius said, stepping over the bench and striding up to the group of second-years. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right? So be brave and accept your brother for who he is.” James laughed a bit, and looked Scorpius up and down. He’d heard the blonde’s name on the train, too.  
  
“And what, some Malfoy brat knows what bravery is, huh?” James retorted, puffing up his chest to make himself look bigger. Scorpius shrugged.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not,” the blonde replied, “but I do know what being mean is. And right now, you’re just being mean.” James huffed indignantly, and looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, just stormed back to the Gryffindor table with his buddies. Scorpius shook his head and turned back to Albus. “You OK?” Albus nodded.  
  
“Thanks,” the brunette said, glancing up towards the table where the professors were sitting, picking his dad out among them. Harry seemed not to have noticed. “You’re Scorpius, right? Scorpius Malfoy?” Scorpius nodded, and got the person next to Albus to slide over so he could sit down.  
  
“Yeah, that’s me.” There was some shuffling of plates as Scorpius’s was returned to him and the one in between where he had been sitting and where he was sitting was slid down. “You’re Albus Potter, right? What should I call you?” Albus shrugged. Nobody had really asked what to call him before – his sister and parents called him Albus, and his brother and the Weasley children all called him Alby, though the Weasley kids didn’t mean it quite so meanly as James did.  
  
“Al, I guess,” the brunette replied. Albus sounded way too formal, but Alby was demeaning, and Al was the first thing he could think of that wasn’t either of those but still fit with his name. “Thanks for asking.” Scorpius shrugged, grabbing a roll from a nearby tray of them.  
  
“I figured everybody else just kind of assumed what they could call you without really taking you into account,” the blonde explained, biting into the roll he’d taken. “Any classes you’re looking forward to?”  
  
“Well, my dad teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, so…” Albus shrugged, taking a bite of the chicken he’d piled on his plate. “He taught James and me how to fly when we were little, so Flying class will be really easy. I might try out for Quidditch. I don’t know.” Scorpius nodded. His dad had taught him how to fly, too, but only the year before, so he wasn’t really that good yet. “What about you?”  
  
“I think I’m most looking forward to Potions,” Scorpius replied, flashing a smirk that looked eerily similar to his father’s signature expression. “You can have some real fun in Potions class.”  
  
________________________________________

As much as Albus wanted to believe that his dad hadn’t seen a thing that had happened between him, James, and Scorpius, Harry had been watching the whole thing out of the corner of his eye. The other professors had noticed him watching his sons, but had decided against calling him out on spying on them, since his children were more or less his business. Seeing Scorpius Malfoy, with his striking resemblance to Draco, seeming to become easy friends with his younger son got him riled up a bit, but it was his son’s decision who to be friends with and who not to be, and it was not his place to interfere. Horace Slughorn, who had hung on through the years as Potions Professor, had managed to completely miss the fact that Harry was inconspicuously spying on his sons and was trying to engage Harry in conversation.  
  
“A promising group of first-years this year, eh, Harry?” the old geezer tried, as if that would get him more than a single syllable in response. Instead, he only got an affirming grunt, as Harry wasn’t really listening. After a few more attempts, one of the other professors took pity on Horace and got up to go over and talk to him. This left Harry open to blatantly spy on his children instead of surreptitiously spying on them. James noticed, and snickered to his friends about his crazy dad, but Albus seemed preoccupied with his new friend, even a little in awe of him. The Malfoy boy was as charming as his father, to be sure, but it seemed he didn’t see Albus as his equal. That was likely to become a problem, but for the time being, it would be fine. Albus was talking, which was the main thing Harry focused on. Albus was a quiet and reserved boy, so anytime he spoke more than a few words at a time was a victory in Harry’s mind. He realized the boys might come to resent having their father at school with them, but he felt that it would be balanced out by the fact that if they got homesick, they would still be able to spend some time with him to feel like they were at home again.  
  
Harry restrained himself from catching up with James and Albus as they left the Great Hall, as he would see them in their classes over the course of the year and would have plenty of time to talk to them then. Besides, if he showed up next to Albus, the boy would go suddenly quiet again, which might put his new friend off more than a little.  
  
________________________________________  
Scorpius’s previous statement that much fun could be had in Potions class proved to be true, especially on the third day of class, when Scorpius convinced Albus to go along with a scheme to make the simple potion they were brewing explode spectacularly. Seamus Finnegan would have been proud, but neither of them was Seamus’s son. Slughorn wrote a letter to Draco about the incident, and spoke to Harry in person about it. By the end of that conversation, Harry felt like his forehead was going to permanently meld with his right palm, a serious inconvenience should he ever need to write something or look someone else in the eye. Albus had been sitting in the corner of Harry’s office through the entire conversation, and was staring at the ground between his feet, knowing his father would be angry.  
  
“Albus, I’m not angry with you,” Harry sighed, getting up from his desk and kneeling in front of his son, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I just wish you would be a little more careful in Potions class, alright? It’s your first year, so you won’t be working with anything too dangerous, but in your later years, there will be potions that could be deadly if you’re not paying attention. And if you did this on purpose, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. If this happens again, I won’t. Go back to your common room and get your homework done, alright? I’ll see you in class.” Albus nodded, hopped off the chair, and scurried as fast as he could out of his father’s office, feeling beyond embarrassed that his dad was being so nice to him after he had clearly done something wrong. When he got back to the common room, Scorpius was looking a little pale, with the distinct red envelope of a Howler sitting on his lap. When Albus asked, the blonde just smiled and laughed it off, and they sat together doing their homework, not really in the mood to give each other answers after the chastising they’d both received from their fathers.  
  
In his office, Harry had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers, sighing in exasperation.  
  
“What am I going to do with you, Albus…? What am I going to do…?”


	2. Scor's School Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds out about his son's new friend.

_Dear father,_

_I’m doing just fine in Hogwarts. Thank you for writing me. I’ve made many friends, but the closest one I have so far is Al. He’s a shy boy, but he seems really nice. His brother is an idiot though. My classes are all interesting for the most part. I’m thinking of trying out for Quidditch. Al thought it might be fun. It’s only been a week, father. Don’t worry too much about me. Thanks for the letters, but I promise I’m fine._

_With love,_

_Scor_

 

Al? Who on earth was Al, and how had he convinced Scorpius Malfoy to try out for Quidditch after only knowing him for a week?

 

Resisting the urge write back promptly and annoy his son further with more letters, Draco left his study to find something else to occupy his evening. He couldn’t very well floo Astoria. That was out of the question. The woman hadn’t spoken to him since he had insisted that Al spend Christmas with him this year. Pansy was busy on a secret Ministry assignment of some sort so she couldn't talk… Blaise was probably at a club as usual and Hermione Granger was more his business partner than friend. No doubt her husband would be in a rage anyway if he called… Or she would be in a rage if he disturbed her wedding planning time. When had he become so alone?

 

It hadn’t always been this way. When he worked for the Ministry he had quite of bit of fun with his coworkers. It was almost like getting the chance to relive his Hogwarts days properly. He had saved many lives while working in the Potions department and had assisted on many Auror cases. He had even worked with Harry Potter, though they hardly spoke and took to interacting with others while on the assignment. Either way, he had cleared his name and was allowed in every establishment these days except for a muggle club called _RAVISH,_ but that was because of something stupid and nonmagical that he had done while he was still young, and he had no wish to return there.

 

Life as a good and honorable man was very boring, though. He wondered how Granger managed to get excited about anything after she had spent years working in the department of Mysteries. Why she ever took up Draco’s offer to start their own business still baffled him. Now even their business bored him. It was routine. His Malfoy obligations bored him. His life bored him and the only remotely interesting part of him was now at Hogwarts until Christmas and didn’t want to be receiving so many letters.

 

So what did interesting people do? Who did he consider interesting?

 

Harry Potter was interesting, but he survived the killing curse on multiple occasions and defeated the Dark Lord before he even finished school! How was Draco going to do that? No, no. He had to think of someone else.

 

Albus Dumbledore had been interesting. Alright. He’d go after some of the titles that Dumbledore had gotten. …No. What had made Dumbledore interesting was the mystery… Draco already had that down. Barely anybody knew what he really thought. They trusted him, but they weren’t sure why anymore.

 

The blond looked around and found that he was once again in his study, with his son’s letter resting on his desk.

 

 _Al._ That was incredibly interesting. Who was Al and what kind of influence would he have on Draco’s impulsive, reckless son?

 

“I suppose he won’t think I’m annoying and controlling if he doesn’t find out about it…”

 

Draco wrote a letter to his son one month into Hogwarts asking how he was and how he was doing with his new friends. Perhaps Draco knew some of their families, he had written. Then they could visit during the Holidays. How fun would that be? “ _It would do you good to get out of the house during the Holiday.”_

_Father,_

_I think it’s a bit too soon to start asking my new friends if I can spend the Holiday with them. It has only been one month. I’d rather not scare them off. I have a few options though. I’ll think about it and get back to you. Everything is well. I didn’t make the Quidditch team, but Al did. He sends his regards. I have joined what’s called “The Slug Club,” but I’m not really sure what the point of it is. Al is in it, too, but there are no other Slytherin first years. I suppose that’s good? ProffesorSlughorn sends his regards and wants to know if you have any first edition copies of The Tales of Beetle the Bard. I told him that if you did, he probably couldn’t afford it, but he only laughed. I think he may be cracked. I’ve made a few friends in other houses. Rose, Hermione Granger’s daughter, is in Ravenclaw. Al and I do homework with her in the afternoons. I’ll write if anything interesting happens. No need to write first. Older students like to laugh at the kids who get too many letters from home._

_Love, Scor_

Too many letters? He hadn’t written in an entire month! But how interesting… Hermione Granger’s daughter? It seemed that he may have more letters to write…

* * *

 

 “ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER? HOW ON EARTH DID A POTTER WIND UP IN SLYTHERIN?!”

 

Hermione Granger did not look amused at Draco’s little outburst. She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

 

“Honestly, Draco. This is what breaks your perfectly crafted Malfoy mask of indifference? Albus is in Slytherin, and from what I hear from Rose, they are best friends or well on their way to becoming best friends. I’m guessing that a few dinners at my house, at Harry’s, or at Mrs. Weasley’s might be inevitable. You might as well get over it now while nobody is around to see that stupid look on your face.”

 

“I never liked you, Granger.”

 

“Thank heavens. I never liked you, either. Now, we should start sorting our new shipment.”

 

“Isn’t that what I pay you to do?”

 

“You are insufferable when you get into these moods. Go eat a bit of chocolate. That always picks up your spirits.”

 

“Albus Potter… I’ve lost my son to a Potter. For Merlin’s sake, Hermione! Don’t you understand?!”

 

“NO. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. WHAT IS SO WRONG ABOUT THE POTTERS?! PLEASE, ENLIGHTEN THE BEST FRIEND OF HARRY POTTER AS TO WHY YOU HATE THEM SO MUCH!”

 

“It’s just… I told Scropius that we could spend Christmas with the friend of his choice.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “If he picks Alb-“

 

“Oh, he most certainly will.” The witch cracked a smile. “This is too good to be true. Draco Malfoy sharing Christmas dinner with the Potters and the Weasleys. I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Her smile widened into a grin.

 

“You have to save me.”

 

“Like you saved me last week with the latest shipment? I was sorting through inventory for hours because you are too paranoid to hire someone else to do that job!”

 

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermione.”

 

“What happened to hating ‘Granger’?”

 

“Oh, be quiet. You know I don’t mean it when I say those things.”

 

“ I know… But that doesn’t mean I won’t thoroughly enjoy you suffering as you are forced to sit politely and bite your tongue as Harry and Ron sit across from you at dinner. I never found Christmas to be all that fun, but this year is sure to be amusing.”

 

“You’ve been spending too much time with me, Granger. You’ve picked upSlytherin tendencies.”

 

“And you’ve adopted the qualities of a… how would Draco Malfoy put it…? Ah, yes. A sniveling Hufflepuff.”

 

Draco stiffened.

 

“Fine. Have it your way, Granger. Sort everything else yourself next week.”

 

“That’s no price to pay to see your fac-“

  
“Yes, yes. Dinner. Potter and Weasley. I have plenty of time to back out. All it will take is a single letter.”

Yet,that night, before Draco had time to write his letter, one came for him instead.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I am having a bit of trouble with my son Albus and your son Scorpius. I’d like to keep this from the headmistress, and I hope we can keep this to ourselves. Please visit me at your earliest convenience._

_Harry Potter_


	3. Boys In Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys land themselves in a spot of trouble with their fathers.

The first year Gryffindors and Slytherins were practicing their defensive spells, per Harry’s instructions. Simple, basic spells that they could use to block little jinxes in the corridors of the castle, and easy counter-spells they could cast if they messed up their blocking spell. It was nothing too dangerous, or so Harry thought, and he had had the foresight to clear the room of most expensive, breakable, or dangerous objects before the start of the lesson, so that nothing particularly untoward would happen during the lesson.  
Still, despite his precautions, he heard a pair of mischievous giggles near the back of the room, and looked up in time to see a spell go astray and hit a rather large bookshelf, sending it off-balance, sure to fall, but far enough away from the rest of the students that it wouldn’t hit anyone. Harry quickly sent a balancing spell at the bookshelf and looked to where the stray spell had come from. Scorpius and Albus were huddled together, giggling over the bookshelf that would surely fall and be a right pain in Harry’s arse to set back to rights. When there was no satisfying crash, no sound of books hitting the floor, the two looked up and saw a rather furious-looking Harry stalking towards them. None of the other students had noticed, and the bookshelf was where it ought to have been, which left the boys to guess that Harry had looked up in time and saved the room from catastrophe. Before Harry could even open his mouth to start reprimanding them, Albus stepped forward.

“It was my fault, Dad,” he lied, obviously taking the fall for his friend. Harry raised an eyebrow at his son, who stood firm under the angry, questioning gaze of his father. He’d seen it used often enough on James, and so he knew that shriveling under it would just give away his complete and utter falsehood. “I cast the spell, it was my idea.” Harry turned his gaze on Scorpius, who visibly flinched, not being used to such scrutiny from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“Well, Scorpius? Is it true? Was it Albus’ idea?” Harry asked, his expression not wavering for a moment. Scorpius swallowed hard, not wanting to sell his friend out for something he didn’t do, but not wanting to get in trouble for having been the one to actually do it. He was also, in fact, quite impressed that Albus had decided to take the fall for what had happened, and he didn’t want to steal this unexpected glory from him. Harry could see all of this going through the blond eleven-year-old’s mind, and sighed, deflating a little. This wasn’t going to be quite so easy.

“I expect the two of you in my office this evening, an hour before dinner,” he ordered, turning and heading back to his desk in the front of the room. As soon as the class was over, he stared at a spare piece of parchment for several moments before penning a short, reluctant note to Draco Malfoy, wanting to deal with the bad influence on his son but not wanting to involve any higher authority in the matter. He was a little proud of his son for standing up for his friend, but he still could not tolerate such potentially dangerous pranks in his or any other classroom.

Later that day, Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Severus Potter walked into Harry’s office, their heads hung, and immediately gravitated towards the same corner of the room, wanting to at least sit together while they were reprimanded at length for what had happened. Before they sat down, Harry cleared his throat.

“Albus, the other corner, if you will,” he said without looking up from the paper he was grading. Both boys jumped slightly, and they looked at each other, then separated, Scorpius sitting down where he was, Albus dragging his chair to the opposite corner of the room. They expected Harry to start speaking immediately, but when nobody said anything, they grew nervous. The longer the silence dragged on, the more nervous they got, and they grew so nervous that when a knock sounded on the door a few minutes after they had come in, they both nearly fell out of their chairs. Harry finally put down the quill he was using to grade the paper and looked up, calling, “Come in,” to the person on the other side of the door, which opened to admit one Draco Malfoy. The elder blond closed the door behind himself and started towards the desk.

“I trust this is nothing too serious, Potter,” he practically hissed, sitting down in the chair opposite Harry’s desk when the professor gestured towards it silently.

“It could have been,” Harry replied, keeping his tone as polite as he could manage for his son. “During class today, I had the children practicing basic defensive spells, and one went astray and nearly knocked over a bookshelf. It came from the general direction of Scorpius and Albus, who were convened together near the back of the room.” Scorpius visibly shrank in his chair, and Albus looked anywhere but at the people in the room with him.

“I trust your brood owned up to his responsibility for the act?” Draco asked, causing Harry to visibly bristle despite his carefully controlled attitude.

“He did, but it is the nature of children to lie in order to protect their friends,” the professor replied, keeping his gaze level. “I believe that my son lied to me in order to protect yours from blame.” This made Draco become visibly angry, and before the blond could say anything, Harry addressed their sons. “Albus, Scorpius, could you please go wait in the classroom – with at least two desks between the two of you – so that we can have a more private discussion?” Seeing the anger on both of their fathers’ faces, the boys scrambled from their chairs and out of the room as quickly as they could, nearly slamming the door in their haste to get out of there. As soon as the door was closed, Draco practically exploded.

“Are you suggesting that my son is behind this, Potter? Was your son not plain enough when he admitted that he did it?” Harry practically growled in response to this, which was all the goading Draco needed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Potter, your son isn’t guiltless! He’s your son! You caused more trouble in school than any Slytherin ever did!”

“Oh, yes, I caused trouble, but you were the one who tried for an entire year to kill someone! Or had you conveniently forgotten that? That’s right, you nearly killed my best friend, and it’s because of you that Albus Dumbledore died when he did! If either of us was going to raise a troublemaker, it would be you!” Harry could feel himself seething, and was glad for the silencing spells he’d put in place so that nobody outside the immediate vicinity of the office door would hear what went on inside the office.

“I don’t need to take this abuse from you, Potter, and neither does my son!” Draco all but screeched this last remark, rising from his chair dramatically. “Don’t you trust your own son? Believe him at his word! You only raised good, honest children after all, since you’re so good and honest yourself!”

“My son was trying to protect yours! He was being valiant and brave!” Harry roared in response, standing so quickly his chair nearly fell over. “He was taking the blame so that his only friend wouldn’t get in trouble! If anyone is to blame here, it’s Scorpius!”

“I don’t have to take this! Not from you!” With that, Draco stormed out of the office, leaving the door wide open in his wake. Harry growled to himself and went out into the classroom, where he found the two boys sitting together at one desk, not with two in between them as he’d instructed.

“I have one last thing to say to the both of you, but then I want you to go down to dinner,” Harry said, checking himself so that he wouldn’t yell at the scared-looking young boys. It wasn’t their fault their fathers couldn’t possibly see eye to eye, after all. “If either of you pulls anything like this again, I will bring it to the headmistress instead of dealing with it myself. Am I understood?” The boys nodded, and Harry dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Albus and Scorpius practically sprinted out of the room, and Harry took a seat on the edge of the classroom desk, running his hands through his impossibly messy hair. He had a feeling he hadn’t seen or heard the last of Draco Malfoy.


	4. Correspondence

Draco went straight home and wrote up a letter for Scorpius to open the next day at breakfast, and for him to open every day after that for a month. If Scorpius insisted on playing childish pranks, he would be treat the boy as the child that he obviously was. Let _that_ teach him to play dangerous pranks in school. Honestly…had he raised a Weasley twin?

The rest of the month was uneventful. Draco and Hermione hired a few more witches and wizards to help them sort their books and rare artifacts. Their company had been built to provide the common Wizard with uncommon sources of information, but the nature of their business had led them to venture into what Hermione liked to call “The Big Leagues,” though Draco could not care less as to why she had chosen that name. All he cared about was that he was making enough money on his project to donate to charities, keep his name honorable, live comfortably, and still not have to touch the Malfoy fortune which grew daily thanks to his wise investments. Hermione seemed more than pleased with her half and had even started giving money to charity herself, though Draco didn’t think she had enough for that. _If she would just listen and invest, then she could triple that money. I thought she was intelligent!_

Draco bought and sold property over the course of the month. He remodeled his kitchen in Malfoy Manor. He had done just about everything he could think of and he was horribly bored.

Luckily-

_No. Not luckily. Very unluckily._

A letter arrived from Harry Potter a month and a half after the last.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_It seems that our children managed to release a boggart in the school. I’m trying to keep the children from being expelled, but Headmistress McGonagall seems to think that suspension is still a good idea. She had told me that having such “famous” parents has made our children crave attention and pushes them to seek it at any cost. She is writing to you now to tell you about what happened. I suggest you come to Hogwarts right away so that we can strategize before we speak with her. I agree that our children need to be punished, but suspension is a bit much. I’ll wait for you in my office._

_I hope you know that Albus never got into any trouble before he met Scorpius._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

 

“He hadn’t caused any trouble, had he?” Draco sneered at Harry from his spot by the door. He was leaning on the frame gently, letting his deep drawl work its way up the professor’s spine. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy knew how to do, it was how to upset Harry Potter. And that bastard deserved it after that crack about Scorpius.

The brunette turned around, setting his book down.

“You should learn how to knock.”

“You should learn how to tell whether or not someone is in your office. Didn’t they teach you how to set up a ward at the Auror academy or during your ten years at the ministry?”

“Yes. And they taught you a lot more than that, didn’t they, Malfoy? Your time with the Unspeakables… tell me, what exactly have you passed on to your son that has enabled him to let loose boggarts in the castle?”

“It was obviously your son who-“

“I have to disagree. YOUR son-“

“That little Potter bra-“

“Pretentious Malfoy sno-“

“Lack of propriety and mann-“

“No sense of shame or hono-“

“Disgusting Weasley moth-“

Harry Potter slammed his hand on the desk and Draco straightened haughtily. They had both gone too far, but Draco was not going to start admitting anything.

“Malfoy… We need to work together.” The blonde sighed and let himself step over to a chair in front of Potter’s desk.

“Alright. I believe we should make the case that the children are acting out because they get too much attention, and giving them more will only exacerbate the problem.”

Potter raised an eyebrow. It was almost sad that the Gryffindor thought he could look cunning.

“Interesting… Too much attention from their peers or the media or-“

“Everyone. What would be best is to show them their own insignificance… and to separate them in classes.”

“I completely agree.”

“Wonderful. Shall we see the headmistress?”

* * *

 

Draco laid in bed after a long meeting with McGonagall. He and Potter had finally convinced her that her children should stay in school after about an hour of negotiating. She didn’t seem to think the children should be separated though. _She’s insane. She’s always been insane._ She had mentioned something about the bonds of friendship and a bit of other nonsense. It was all pointless to Draco. His son’s friendship with the Potter boy couldn’t last. Scorpius would soon see how idiotic the Potters were and he’d find someone more suitable to be his friend. Perhaps he and Rose would become best friends instead.

* * *

 

_Dear father,_

_I am writing to request that we spend Christmas time with the Potters and the Weasleys. I know that you and Professor Potter  have a bit of tension left over from your school days and I would appreciate it if you could put that aside for the sake of your son._

_Scorpius Malfoy_

_Scorpius,_

_How dare you? I refrain from speaking to you as my father spoke to me, but in this situation it is called for. You are acting like an insolent little brat. After all the trouble you have caused with the Potter child, do you honestly believe that you have any right to ask me if we can visit him and his family during Christmas time? You are lucky that I haven’t taken away your freedom to leave the house this winter. I’ve never heard of a Malfoy acting so childishly. You may only be 11, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t old enough to show dignity and composure. I received a letter from Professor Potter last week informing me that you and his son managed to explode a Gryffindor boy’s hair during Potions. If it hadn’t been for the professor’s quick thinking, the boy could have been seriously injured. I hear there isn’t evidence against you, but your little friend confessed everything to his father. Did he tell you that? We are not going anywhere this winter. You will spend it in the Manor and you will not complain._

_Your Father_

_Father,_

_That boy deserved that! He was making fun of Al for being Harry Potter’s son and being in Slytherin. They keep saying that if he didn’t look so much like Proffesor Potter that they would swear he was adopted. Al has stood up for me countless times and earned my trust and friendship. He’s different from most of the Slytherins here. And I have top marks in all of my classes. I think I deserve to spend Christmas with the Potters. I haven’t done anything truly terrible. At least I haven’t let any Death Eaters into the castle._

That’s when the Howler arrived…

_SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY! HOW DARE YOU SEND ME SUCH AN INNAPROPRIATE LETTER?! DO YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE BEEN AT HOGWARTS FOR A FEW MONTHS THAT YOU ARE SUDDENLY AN INDEPENDENT MAN? SHALL I TELL EVERYONE IN THE GREAT HALL THAT YOU STILL NEED MUMMY TO HOLD YOUR HAND WHEN YOU GO TO ST. MUNGO’S OR THAT YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CHILDHOOD BEAR UNDER YOUR PILLOW? NOT TO MENTION THAT I PAY FOR EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR CHILDISH WHIMS. BUT NOT ANY LONGER. SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR SUGAR QUILLS AND YOUR QUIDDITCH MEMROBILIA. IF YOU ARE SO GROWN UP THAT YOU CAN TALK BACK TO YOUR FATHER THEN YOU CAN AFFORD TO BUY YOUR OWN THINGS. I HOPE HOGWARTS GIVES SCHOLARSHIPS TO BRATTY LITTLE BOYS, BECAUSE IF NOT YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO AFFORD YOUR SUPPLIES NEXT YEAR!_

_YOU WILL NOT BE SPENDING CHRISTMAS ANYWHERE! YOU WILL STAY IN YOUR ROOM AND YOU WILL STAY QUIET AND OUT OF SIGHT UNTIL I SPECIFICALLY ASK YOU TO COME OUT. YOU WILL NOT HAVE USE OF THE HOUSE ELVES OR THE MUGGLE GAMES YOU ENJOY SO MUCH._

_YOUR LITTLE FRIEND SHOULD ALSO KNOW THAT YOU ARE AN ENORMOUS FANTATIC OF ONE HARRY JAMES POTTER. YOU HAVE ALL OF HIS ACTION FIGURES AND NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS. YOU HAVE POSTERS AND BOOKS AND DRAWING ALL OVER YOUR WALLS. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD TELL HIM HOW MUCH YOU FANCY IS FATHER BEFORE HE BELIEVES THAT YOU ARE SIMPLY HIS FRIEND FOR PURE REASONS. IS THAT WHY YOU WANT TO SPEND CHRISTMAS WITH THEM? BECAUSE YOU WANT TO SATISFY YOUR LIFELONG DREAM OF BEING HARRY POTTER’S SON? TOO BAD! YOU ARE A MALFOY AND YOU WILL ACT LIKE ONE._

The howler burst into flames and fell to the table. For the first time in all the months Scorpius had been at Hogwarts, the Great Hall was completely silent. He looked up to see Professor Potter frowning at him and then looked over to see Al’s eyes pooling with tears.

“Al…he’s just trying to punish me for something I shouldn’t have said in the last letter. It’s not like that. I’m your friend because I like you for you.”

For a moment, Scorpius thought that Al was going to bolt from the room, but his friend surprised him as usual. He simply nodded and continued to eat as sound slowly returned to the room.

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_I don’t know what your child did to deserve that uncharacteristic outburst last week, but it was effective. Neither of the kids have been any trouble. Perhaps you should reconsider Christmas? We could work out a bargain. If the boys have a spotless record until the holiday, then they can spend Christmas together. I promise to be civil for their sake._

_H.P._

**_Xxx_ **

_Potter,_

_D.M._

**_xxx_ **

_Draco,_

_As much as I hate this… Please?_

_Harry_

**_xxx_ **

_H,_

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_Draco Malfoy,_

_Children make mistakes._

_Harry_

**_xxx_ **

_H_

_Are you questioning my parenting? And for Merlin’s sake, pic a name for these letters!_

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_I’m not. I just have a soft heart for children who make mistakes. I know two boys who made a lot of them at Hogwarts and they both got second chances._

**_xxx_ **

_H_

_I wouldn’t say I got a second chance. I made my own second chance._

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_D_

_I testified for you and your mother. I gave you your wand back and then you proved me right. Can’t we give them a chance to prove us right? They haven’t done anything as bad as we did._

_H_

**_xxx_ **

_H_

_The Golden Boy didn’t do anything bad. And no. No chances._

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_D_

_People died because of me._

_H_

**_xxx_ **

_H_

_They died because of me._

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_D_

_They haven’t killed anyone. It’s one night. Just Christmas night._

_H_

**_xxx_ **

_H_

_Fine. I expect an expensive and thoughtful gift._

_D_

**_xxx_ **

_D_


	5. Christmas

The mistletoe hung menacingly in the doorway between the corridor and the parlor, daring anyone to stop beneath it. Harry didn’t remember putting any up, and his mind immediately blamed nargles, though he as yet had no proof besides Luna that they existed, though the real blame fell to James, who was trying to trap his brother and the other nasty little Slytherin under it. There was one male Potter and one male Malfoy under the mistletoe, though not quite the ones James had intended it for.

“I’d rather snog a blast-ended skrewt,” Harry grumbled, one hand gripping a goblet of spiked eggnog rather too hard, the other stuffed in the pocket of his deep maroon robe. Draco scoffed.

“I’d rather snog the oaf who takes care of those ridiculous creatures,” the blond snorted in response, smirking as Harry visibly bristled at the insult to one of his best friends and mentors. He didn’t want to give the snob the satisfaction of a verbal response, and that small smirk was distracting enough from his wall of hostility.

“I’d rather snog a Hungarian horntail,” Harry muttered into his goblet before taking a gulp of the stuff inside. Before Draco could give a response to this latest dig, the Weasley children and most of the Potter kids ran past, Albus and Scorpius trailing behind a little. Harry raised an eyebrow at them as they neared.

“Quidditch game!” Albus called out, grinning widely, as he ran past, and it was then that Harry noticed that most of the adults had already made their way through another door out into the backyard and were gathering to watch what had become a tradition in these gatherings – the kids’ quidditch game. Harry and Draco shared a look, shrugged, and made their way outside as well, Harry leaving behind his goblet. There was the usual bickering about teams before Ron stepped in and divided them up, keeping as many siblings from being on the same team as he could without violating the rules. Finally, after yet more bickering over the best Beater and Chaser combinations, the game started.

“I see James doesn’t take after you much,” Draco said in a conversational tone, watching the game rather than looking at Harry. “You always were a rubbish flyer. No grace whatsoever, just speed and stupid bravery.” The brunette tried not to let himself bristle at the comment so as not to distract his kids from the game and cause them to fall off their brooms, but the jab was a low blow.

“At least my children aren’t obnoxious, like yours is,” Harry replied, watching as Albus – playing as Seeker, as he did every year – did a quick, tight turn as he saw the Snitch dart past the side of his head. “Teach him to fly yourself?” Draco settled back into his signature sneer, giving a condescending chuckle.

“Just like you taught your children to support each other so well that one bullies the other for what house he was sorted into,” the blond replied, smirking.

The game continued, and so did the jabs. Albus wound up catching the Snitch for his team, which included Scorpius, and Harry and Draco wound up openly glaring at each other. As everyone migrated back inside, the two bickering adults managed to end up underneath another sprig of mistletoe that James had placed in a doorway. Harry growled un the back of his throat, and Draco sighed. They ignored each other, leaning on opposite sides of the doorway, glaring in different directions, until Draco nearly choked on a tart he’d picked up. Harry was concerned for a moment, until Draco said something.

“At least you’re not that horrid excuse for a person,” the blond said a little hoarsely, motioning with his tart towards where Ginny stood talking to none other than Cormac McLaggen. Harry made an exaggerated gagging motion, and Draco nodded his agreement to the sentiment. “I’m surprised you even invited him. Any reason?” Harry shook his head, bewildered.

“I didn’t,” the brunette answered, watching Ginny and the miserable waste of humanity that was Cormac McLaggen. Ginny was smiling almost daftly, touching Cormac’s arm… _shit._ “Ginny asked if she could bring a date and I’m not about to tell her she can’t…she brought McLaggen. Ginny invited McLaggen as her date. There’s someone I’d snog you over.” Draco scoffed.

“I’d _shag_ you if it meant I didn’t have to be offended with his presence,” the blond retorted, still in the mode of one-upping Harry’s insults. Just then, Cormac seemed to be asking Ginny something, and the red-headed woman pointed over his shoulder, towards where Harry and Draco were standing. Cormac thanked her, gave her a little peck on the lips, and started over towards the bickering gentlemen. They groaned in unison while he was still out of earshot, but when he got closer, Harry managed to put on a polite smile. Cormac was grinning widely, and held out his hand enthusiastically for Harry to shake. The brunette obliged.

“It’s so great to see you again, Harry,” the waste of space said eagerly. “Thanks so much for letting me come, it’s great to meet the people Ginny’s closest to!” Then Cormac turned towards Draco, who was glowering in stark contrast to Harry’s polite smile. “Draco! It’s good to see you, too! I’ll admit, I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m glad you are!” There were a few unpleasant pleasantries exchanged before Cormac returned to Ginny’s side, at which point Draco quite obviously rubbed his hand off on his trousers and took a goblet of some alcoholic beverage or other off of a tray that was floating past.

“That was vastly unpleasant,” the blond said, shuddering slightly at the thought that he’d actually shaken hands with that completely useless being. Harry tilted his head to the side a little, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Why do you dislike him so much?” the brunette asked as Draco sipped at what was clearly a flute of champagne. “I mean, I hate him because he was rubbish to Ron and Hermione and me at Hogwarts, and I thought that would make you like him a lot more.” Draco scoffed for the third time that night and shook his head.

“He’s a misogynistic, vile waste of space and resources,” the blond replied, “and I honestly can’t understand what such a strong, self-respecting woman like Ginny would see in such a horrid man as that.” If Harry said he wasn’t surprised by that speech, he’d have been lying to himself. He was speechless for a few moments before a Slytherin-esque smirk stole over his face.

“We should prank him,” Harry suggested, visibly startling Draco. “Make little things happen first, things that could be accidents, and then I bet George would happily give us a hand with something bigger.” Draco blinked a couple of times before mirroring Harry’s smirk and nodding. It might have been the alcohol the both of them had imbibed over the course of the evening thus far, but neither of them cared overly much.

The first prank was relatively harmless. Cormac was in the parlor, having some wine in a stem-free glass. Harry and Draco positioned themselves in a corner of the room, and when nobody’s eyes were on them, Draco shot a small spell at Cormac that caused him to drop the glass, which shattered. There were a few shrieks from the women in the room, and a couple of curses from the men, but that was it. A flick of a wand and the mess was cleaned, the stain removed. It was dismissed as an accident.

The second prank was less harmless. Draco overheard Ginny telling Cormac to meet her in the kitchen a few minutes later, and planned with Harry to perform a minor memory charm, so that Cormac would forget to go to the kitchen. When they had worked out exactly which spell they’d use, they followed Cormac into the backyard, where the kids were still having fun in the air, without an organized quidditch game. Harry did the spell, and then they waited. Sure enough, about ten minutes after the set meeting time, Ginny stormed out and started screeching at Cormac for forgetting to meet her in the kitchen. After a few moments of screeching to a genuinely confused Cormac, Ginny sent a glare towards Harry and Draco, who ran back inside as quickly as they could. They were given a reprieve, though, by the fact that it was time to open the presents.

“I can’t wait!” James cried as he tore into the parlor, where the tree was set up, going through the presents from the moment he reached them to find his own. They distributed the presents before opening them, and for some reason, each of the children had a broom-shaped package, and when opened, each one proved to be of the latest, fastest model. The brooms were from Draco, as was a box for Harry with a note that read, “I thought you might need this. After all, those who can’t do, teach.” Upon opening the box, Harry discovered a Sneakoscope inside. He rolled his eyes as Scorpius opened a small box from Harry.

“A Snitch?” the younger blond asked, looking up at Harry, who smiled.

“Not just a Snitch. This one comes back when you call it, and you get to decide what call it will come back to,” the older brunette explained. “James got one last year, and he really liked it. I figured, since Albus tells me you like Quidditch so much, you’d like it as well.” At the mention of James’s name, Harry noticed an expression he’d learned from watching Draco meant that the boy was keeping his composure as well as he could, but that underneath, he was quite angry. Thinking on it later, Harry supposed it was because of the mention of James, but he wasn’t really quite sure.

Finally, Draco opened the book-shaped gift Harry had given him, revealing what was, indeed, a book…about hippogriffs. The blond sighed and shook his head, though he did appreciate the fact that it was a book. As the present-opening finished, Harry cornered George Weasley as non-aggressively as he could manage.

“I need a prank,” the brunette said. “It has to be good. Big. Nothing that’ll do real physical damage, but…” As Harry struggled for words to describe exactly what he wanted, George pulled a box out of the pockets of his robe.

“I think this is exactly what you need,” the redhead said, handing the box to Harry. “It’ll be embarrassing to anybody here, even Malfoy, and it’s reversible, too. But it’s big.” Harry took the box and examined it while George explained how to set up the prank. With a quick word of thanks, Harry started off to find Draco so they could set up the prank. He found the blond in the kitchen, considering a small array of alcoholic beverages.

“I’ve got something, come on,” Harry said, motioning for Draco to follow out into the hall. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?” the blond asked, not moving from the array of alcohol. “I refuse to endorse it unless I know what it is.”

“It won’t hurt anybody, George promised,” Harry replied. “Just come on, it’ll take some time to set up, and it’ll take both of us.”

“I demand to know wha—“ Draco started, but he stopped abruptly when Cormac himself half-backed through one of the two doorways, talking animatedly to Molly Weasley. When Harry noticed what had caused Draco to cut himself off, he motioned towards the other doorway and made his way through it just behind the blond.

About half an hour later, Harry and Draco stood in one of the hallways, just past a corner, surveying the completed prank setup. It was just as George had said it should be, and they were getting ready to call Cormac to where they were, so he could trigger the prank, when they heard footsteps from around the corner. Harry turned immediately to a closet near where they were standing and yanked the door open, ushering Draco into it and following quickly, shutting the door behind them.

“This is unbelievably undignified,” Draco grumbled, and Harry just shushed him. “I’m a Malfoy, I shouldn’t be hiding in a closet!” Harry shushed him more vehemently. “It’s improper!”

“Shut the hell up, Draco, we’ll get caught!” Harry hissed, and Draco was about to respond when a scream rang out from the general direction of where the prank was set up. Directly after, they heard someone running, and then nothing. Harry could practically feel Draco in front of him, even though there was an inch of space between them from their both pressing against the walls of the closet. There wasn’t room to stand side-by-side. Neither one of them opened the door for some time. Harry couldn’t help being hyper-aware of how close they were to each other, how thoroughly little space there was, how easy it would be to just fulfill the obligation of the two sprigs of mistletoe they’d wound up under earlier…

“HARRY!!!” someone screamed, and it sounded like Ginny. Harry swore under his breath and got out of the closet as un-awkwardly as he could manage, leaving Draco to his own devices as he made his way to the parlour, where Ginny stood in the center of the room, covered from head to toe in Slytherin green. George was directly behind her, giving Harry the most sheepish look he’d ever seen on a person in his life. They were all silent for a few moments until Draco came into the room, looking necessarily shocked. That was when Ginny snapped.

“Harry James Potter! What is wrong with you?!” she shrieked, glaring with deathly force at Harry, who adopted a suitably confused expression. “Don’t even try to deny it! You’ve been pulling pranks on Cormac all night! I know it was you who made him drop the glass, and made him forget to meet me! What is _wrong_ with you?! What do you even have against him?! And _Slytherin green_?! I thought you _taught_ at Hogwarts, not attended classes there!”

“I’m so sorry, Ginny,” Draco interjected, “but I asked Harry for the box. You see, my house elf loves going to Hogwarts quidditch games and showing Slytherin pride, and so I was going to give it to him. I was fiddling with it, seeing how it worked, but I had to visit the lavatory and leave it set up. You must have stumbled upon it. I’m so sorry.” There was silence for a few moments, and George saw his opportunity for retribution.

“Harry didn’t say what he wanted it for,” the male redhead said, touching Ginny’s shoulder. “He just asked for it. I don’t think it has anything to do with the glass, or the forgetting.”

“I think you’re being a bit paranoid, Ginny,” Draco ventured. “Perhaps you should take a relaxing bath or shower and lie down for a bit? Unless you take pride in making your sheets green, of course.” Ginny glared at each of the three men in turn, then huffed as dramatically as she could and stormed out of the room. Harry gave Draco an incredulous look, but the blond just smirked and shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, yet elegant, box. “This was in case you weren’t a complete imbecile tonight. You’ve proved yourself quite credibly non-imbecilic.” Harry blinked once, then smirked as well and pulled a similar box out of his robes.

“For the git,” the brunette said, laced with benevolent sarcasm. They exchanged the boxes, and Draco offered a hand for Harry to shake.

“It’s late, and my son and I must be going,” the blond said as Harry accepted the proffered hand. “It was certainly a pleasure, and I must thank you.” With that, Draco motioned to Scorpius, and they left, smiling and waving goodbye to everyone in the room. When they were quite gone, and everybody else had either left or gone to bed, Harry opened the box Draco had given him. Inside, he found small golden snitch cufflinks.

And this shocked Harry not only because of the thoughtfulness of the gift, but because inside of the similar box he’d given Draco was a set of identical golden snitch cufflinks.


	6. Drinking Buddies

_Potter,_

_Cursing McLaggen with you was surprisingly not unbearable. Christmas turned out to be less horrible than I thought it would be._

_D.M._

_-_

_Malfoy,_

_It was just as horrible as I thought it would be. Thank you for that._

_H.J.P._

_-_

_Potter,_

_Hilarious. I must say, your taste in cufflinks is impeccable._

_-_

_Is this your thank you note? Where is the Malfoy hospitality?_

_-_

_It dried up the day after Christmas when I had to have your son and Granger’s daughter over. Then Weasley stopped by to pick them up. I had to take a Pepper-Up potion after that experience._

_-_

_I hope your idiot of a son doesn’t start rubbing off on Al._

_-_

_P. Speaking of my wonderfully intelligent son, he seems to enjoy your gift. I suppose I should congratulate you for not ruining his Christmas._

_-_

_M. I’m a wonderful gift giver. How do you like that book on hippogriffs? I do hope that it’s not bringing up any traumatic memories._

_-_

_P. It’s been an interesting read. I do hope your Sneakoscope is helping you. I know you have a lot of enemies, what with being the chosen arse and all._

-

Draco sat back from his latest message. He’d been trading notes with Harry for a few days, but Hogwarts was going to be in session again soon and he wondered if the professor would have time for their bickering. Draco quite enjoyed the correspondence. Like his time at the ministry, it was an improved version of his time at Hogwarts and it was incredibly interesting. Sometimes he would think for hours about what to write. After all, he couldn’t let Potter win. He would just wait for the man to snap and claim his victory. Then perhaps they could go get a drink or- Ugh. No. A drink with Potter might result in blows without the distraction of Cormac McLaggen.

As if the universe had read his thoughts, an owl rapped on his window with a note from Harry Potter about the insufferable arse that was McLaggen.

_I’m afraid I couldn’t wait for your poorly-written reply. McLaggen is at my home right now and without you to hate him alongside me, I’m at a loss as to what do with myself. He showed up without any warning. Ginny was supposed to come over for dinner with the kids, but she never told me she was bringing her pet troll along. I don’t suppose you could show up with your son? Your presence is agonizing, but more tolerable than this git’s._

Draco’s face broke into a large grin, though he didn’t realize it. He wrote a quick reply and attached it to a bottle of firewhiskey he kept in his office drawer for particularly stressful nights. He had drunk a bit of it, but Potter wouldn’t mind.

_My apologies, Potter. My son is with his mother at the moment and I have to see Hermione in half an hour to go over our stock. I hope this helps. I had to drink a bit myself when I read McLaggen’s name. Somehow those letters in that order are alarmingly offensive to me. Also, I’m quite surprised the Sneakoscope didn’t alert you to is oncoming presence. Perhaps your ineptitude rubbed off on it? I’ll buy you a new one posthaste._

Draco sent off the package and got ready to meet with Hermione, all the while wearing an enormous grin on his face.

* * *

 

Albus walked into his father’s study, but Harry was nowhere to be found. Where was dad? He was about to turn around and leave, but an owl feather caught his attention and he made his way to his father’s desk. It was a small feather and looked like it probably had fallen off a post owl or sometehi- Al saw a pile of little notes from… Mr. Malfoy?

“Hilarious. I must say, your taste in cufflinks is impeccable.”

“It’s been an interesting read. I do hope your Sneakoscope is helping you. I know you have a lot of enemies, what with being the chosen arse and all.”

“I’m pleased the firewhiskey helped you through such a trying time in your life. Next time, make sure to plead for my help at least two hours in advance.”

“Of course.”

“Thursday.”

“Only because you are going back to Hogwarts. So sad to see you haven’t grown up after so many years. Trying to relive the glory days?”

“Yes. The pleasure will indeed be yours.”

Al was confused… Why did dad have so many notes from Mr. Malfoy? Didn’t they hate each other? He quickly took pictures of all the notes with the mobile his father insisted he use while he wasn’t in Hogwarts, and then ran off to his room. He had to write to Scor right away.

* * *

 

After a few weeks of notes, Potter was going to have to go back to Hogwarts, and so he had asked Draco to go to dinner with him. Draco had accepted, because after all, they had become good acquaintances, their children were very good friends, and since Potter was returning to work, it would be a while before they would be able to bond over their mutual hatred of Cormac McLaggen. Malfoy was fully prepared to tease Potter endlessly at dinner if things took an uncomfortable turn, but he believed the past would be left in the past. At least, the part that mattered. He was sure he would be called a ferret at least once. It was worth it, though. And after all, if he could get past his differences and befriend Hermione Granger, then he was sure he could befriend Harry Potter.

Draco waited at a muggle restaurant he had insisted on. He didn’t want any unwanted attention from second-rate reporters or nosy passersby. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone saw the two highest-profile English wizards together in the same place.

 “Paranoid, much?”

Draco looked up and saw Potter standing over him. The dim lighting gave the man an almost sinister look. To compensate, Draco sneered.

“I’d rather not be the headline in tomorrow’s prophet, Potter. Our new found frie-… Well… whatever this arrangement is…”

“Our…acquaintance uh… ship?” Potter sat down, with a half smile on his face.

“Why not? Our newfound _acquaintanceship_ is not something I need misinterpreted and then lied about in the Prophet. I’ve been able to keep myself out of scandals for the past ten years, and I would like to keep it that way.” The brunette rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the menu. The waitress came over, took their drink order, and left without so much as a backwards glance. Draco loved muggle restaurants. Nobody stared.

“So, how’s your son?”

Now it was time for Draco to roll his eyes.

“Really, Potter? You want to make small talk about my son? That’s not how we work, is it?” Potter shrugged and glanced back to his menu. “Scorpius is doing fine. He’s very excited to go back to Hogwarts. He says he, Albus, and Rose have planned some sort of competition in your class. Whoever gets the highest marks wins.”

Potter laughed.

“My class?”

“They seem to think it’s the only subject where they are all at a level playing field.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that Rose is not going to win. She’s very smart, but she puts too much focus on what she learns in books and is afraid of wandwork in my class. I think she thinks she might hurt herself or others.”

“Her mother wasn’t anything like that.”

“And still isn’t.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile fondly. Hermione Granger. His business partner and the most fearsome woman he had ever met. Not counting his ex-wife.

The waitress came back with their drinks and they ordered their food.

“So, Draco.”

Did Potter just call him Draco?

“Yes? … _Harry_ ”

The bloody Gryffindor actually smirked.

“I’m off to Hogwarts tomorrow. Any chance you want to go to a drink after this? I think tha-“

“I don’t drink, Potter.”

“Yes you do. You sent me a bottle of firewhiskey. An open bottle than had been drunk out of. Not very classy of you.”

“I drink a small amount in the privacy of my own home. I do not go out drinking with friends, and much less acquaintances. And I am very classy, _Harry._ I simply didn’t think that it was something I needed to display in front of you. After all, it might make you feel out of place.”

“Alright, fine.”

Wonderful. Now there was tension in the air. This was exactly what he had been dreading. Perhaps the embarrassing truth would work.

“I act like a Gryffindor idiot when I drink.”

“What?”

Potter grinned, obviously expecting a story or an explanation.

“I turn into a bubbling, crimson-wearing baboon, Potter. That’s why I don’t drink often and I never do it in public.”

“What does that even mean, though?”

“Loud. Obnoxious. Ready to please and ready to save the day. I’m not proud of it.”

“Well, then, we _have_ to drink.”

“No no no-“

“We won’t go to any wizard pubs. We can even order something here. I have to see this before I leave. You wouldn’t deny a dying man his wish, would you?”

“You may look terrible, Potter, but you don’t look like you are dying.”

“It’s Harry. And dying, going back to work… It’s the same thing.”

Draco frowned. He was trying very hard not to smile, but he rather liked this playful Potter.  Oh, why the bloody hell not?

“Fine. But only a little.”

* * *

 Draco grabbed on to Harry, the ground swaying dangerously beneath him. Damn his inability to hold his liquor!

“Hold me up properly!”

“I thought you said you turned into a Gryffindor. You just turned into a bigger prat.”

“Isn’t that what Gryffindors aaaare? Bloody hell, your arms are hard. What on earth do you do all day?”

Potter placed an arm around Draco’s waist and hoisted him up a bit as the waitress glared at them. What did she care? They had bought a lot of wine and they had given a large tip. She should be pleased. Potter helped Draco out into the night’s fresh air.

“At least the air should help you.”

Draco took in a deep breath, but only felt his head get foggier. It smelled like Christmas. He liked Christmas. He had spent Christmas with Harry.

“Christmas smells like you.”

“Right. Let’s take you hom-“

“MY SON!” Draco felt a chill go through him, cutting through the fog. “He’s at home! I can’t go home like this! I-“ Draco tripped and Harry increased the force in his grip. No. Not Harry. Potter. Or maybe it was Harry? He couldn’t remember and he couldn’t go home and his son! Merlin!

“Calm down. It’s fine. We’ll stop by my place and get a Pepper-Up potion. The kids are at Ginny’s tonight, much to James’ displeasure.”

“James? Your father?” Wasn’t James Potter dead? And why was the floor spinning so much?

“Maybe we’ll get you two Pepper-Up potions. Don’t throw up. I’m going to apparate us home.”

Draco groaned. Even in his inebriated state, he knew this wasn’t good. Apparating while everything was already spinning… This couldn’t end we- He felt a tug behind his navel and the sickening feeling that follows. Suddenly, he was standing in an overly furnished room and vomiting violently on a plush, red carpet.

After a shower, three Pepper-Up potions, and a muggle pill, Draco was sitting in a warm muggle robe, curled up on a large armchair in front of a fire in a room that could only be Harry Potter’s personal bedroom. The brunette had gone to the kitchen to make some tea, but Draco didn’t really want any. He just wanted to go home, but he was still a bit light headed and felt a giddiness that only came to him when he drank alcohol. Thirty more minutes for the potions to do their job… He shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Damn Potter and his ridiculous requests and damn himself for giving in so easily just because a pair of green ey- No. Just because he wanted a friend. And he was bored. Yes.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked, but I hope this is alright. Doing any better?” Draco shrugged. “Right. Well, I’ll leave this on the table in case you want any and I’ll start getting ready for bed. If you wa-“

“Bed? I’m your guest, Potter. You can’t just abandon me.”

“You will be fine in a few minutes and it’s getting late. I just thought I wou-“

“You have to take care of your guests.”

Potter sighed loudly and Draco narrowed his eyes. He was sick. Well, not completely sick, but alcohol sick and Potter should do his damn job and take care of his guest!

“Fine, fine.” The Gryffindor sat on the floor next to Draco and turned himself toward the fire.

“Your hair is beautiful.”

There was a long pause in which Draco screamed to himself in his mind for blurting out such a stupid, embarrassing, and telling thing. He’d only been on decent terms with Potter for two weeks! He couldn’t start with this nonsense again. This wasn’t school. He wasn’t a child. He couldn’t think about his hair. Insult him. Insult him right now. Make this work. Make this something that is ok. Fix this. But he couldn’t think through his lightheadedness and his panic. Just tell him he has womanly hair or something! Tell him he looks like an idio-

“Thank you. I’ve never thought much about it since I can’t really do anything to it. I mostly get complimented on my eyes.”

“Your eyes are spectacular.”

Another pause. More internal screaming. This was not how a Malfoy was supposed to behave. For Merlin’s sake, he sounded like a bumbling school girl.

“I like yours. They change a lot. Sometimes grey, sometimes blue, sometimes a light silver. They are much more diverse than mine.”

Potter looked over at him and smiled.

And that’s when it happened. Draco’s Malfoy sense disappeared, and he lifted his arm to run his fingers through Harry bloody Potter’s hair.

This time the silence lasted. In fact, it lasted so long that Draco had time to sober up, get dressed, leave through the floo, and walk onto his living room floor in the manor.

He supposed that this would be the last day of his “acquaintanceship” with Potter… and his last day of self respect.

 


	7. The Kids Meddle

Harry had to leave for Hogwarts with Albus and James in tow the very day after the incident with his hair, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on his mind. Quite the contrary, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. This made him withdraw a bit, and that wasn’t lost on Albus, who correctly guessed that it had to do with one Draco Malfoy. He’d used the muggle computer and printer Harry insisted on keeping to print out the pictures he’d taken with his muggle mobile, and as soon as they got to the castle, Albus took off to the Slytherin common room to meet his friend. They’d written back and forth a few times about the notes since he’d found them, but he hadn’t shown them to Scorpius yet, and they’d agreed to meet in the Great Hall as soon as they got back so they could talk about it more easily than through letters.

“Why are they writing like that?” Albus asked as the two boys sat at the Slytherin table, printed pictures of the letters spread out in front of them. Scorpius shrugged.

“Maybe they’re trying to one-up each other,” the blond boy suggested, picking up one of the last letters. Albus shrugged, though it was obvious by his facial expression that he didn’t particularly like that idea. “Trying to make each other feel stupid.”

“Who’s trying to make who feel stupid?” Rose Weasley asked, sitting down across from the two boys. “And why are you two arguing about it?” Scorpius looked at Albus, feeling like they shouldn’t tell this snarky, almost pedantic Ravenclaw about their parents’ writing to each other. Albus shrugged.

“I’ve known her my whole life, she’s actually smart,” the brunette boy said, gathering the letters into a pile, in order, for Rose to look over. He handed her the stack, and she started reading them at the same lightning-fast pace her mother was capable of. “These are from our dads, to each other. We’re trying to figure out what they are.” Rose nodded absently, showing she’d heard without actually looking up from the letters.

“Merlin, you boys are thick,” the Ravenclaw commented when she was finished, which was relatively soon. The boys looked at her blankly, not understanding what she was getting at and, of course, proving her point to her. “They’re _flirting_. Trying to impress each other by being more sarcastic and complimenting each other without actually complimenting each other. They like each other. They want to be a couple.” Scorpius was obviously coming up with arguments against this, but Albus’s eyes got wide, and he swatted at his friend’s arm enthusiastically.

“If they’re a couple, they might get married, and if they get married, we’d be actual brothers!” the brunette boy explained in one breath, grinning excitedly. Scorpius slowly grinned, too, as the idea took root. “Look at the letters! Rose is right, they’re flirting with each other, and they’ll be a couple, and we’ll get to be actual brothers!”

“They don’t think they’re flirting, though,” Rose interjected, and both boys turned very disappointed looks on her. “They think they’re just being witty at each other and showing each other up. But they are definitely flirting with each other, subconsciously. They need a push to tell them that, hey, they like each other.” Albus and Scorpius looked at each other, thinking of how they could give that push.

* * *

 

Almost like he knew his son needed an excuse to shove him at Harry Potter, within a week, Draco Malfoy had come up with a convoluted plan to come visit Hogwarts. Neville Longbottom, who was, of course, the Herbology professor, had written about a particularly rare, if severely outdated, book he was willing to part with, for the right price, of course. Hermione had suggested doing the negotiations via letter, but Draco had irrationally insisted that he needed to go to the castle and negotiate with the professor in person. So, of course, he wrote to Scorpius, telling him he’d be visiting the castle and had gotten permission from the headmaster to bring him into Hogsmeade for dinner. This, of course, inspired Scorpius to plan with Albus to throw their fathers together during the visit to Hogsmeade.

Thanks to the boys’ dim-wittedly ingenious plan, Harry and Albus “happened” to run into Draco and Scorpius as the latter pair was heading through the courtyard to head to Hogsmeade. Seeing each other, the boys greeted each other enthusiastically and ran off to another part of the courtyard, leaving their fathers perplexed and faced only with each other.

“He told me he was looking forward to this trip to Hogsmeade,” Draco noted, not understanding why the boy was so excited to see someone he spent every day with. Harry shrugged.

“Albus practically begged me to take me out to the Hog’s Head today,” the brunette replied, watching their sons giggle and whisper animatedly with each other. “And now he’s just sitting around. They do know we can be civil to each other over a meal, don’t they?” Draco shrugged.

“Maybe they’re up to something else,” the blond suggested. “Maybe they’re trying to get us to take them both to lunch together. Maybe they’re planning to talk us into taking them to Honedukes  and Zonko’s after lunch.” Harry shrugged, as his best guess was as good as Draco’s. They stood there for a moment in silence, until Harry snickered. Draco raised an eyebrow at the brunette. “Something on my face, Potter?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Harry responded, shaking his head and continuing to snicker. “It’s just, I started to wonder if you’d run into any hippogriffs while you were on the grounds.” Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, looking at their sons, who were still whispering quite energetically to each other.

“Not as likely as your need for that Sneakoscope,” the blond retorted. “Did it let you in on anything lately? Any tricks set up by students that any competent professional would notice?” Harry raised both eyebrows and nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” the brunette replied, “it let me know about a snarky, snappy blond in the castle. Might want to be a little subtler next time if you want to escape my notice. I’m a trained professional, after all.” Draco rolled his eyes, and noticed a little belatedly that the boys had stopped whispering and were now simply staring at them, their eyes wide. With a sigh, the blond motioned to Harry, and they both went over to their sons, sitting down on either side of them.

“So, you two obviously want to spend time together,” Draco started, putting an arm around Scorpius’s shoulders. “And we both want to spend time with you. So how about all four of us go to dinner together at the Hog’s Head?” Albus and Scorpius looked at each other and grinned, which settled the matter. The four males got up and walked together into Hogsmeade, settling into a booth near the back of the Hog’s Head and ordering their dinner rather quickly.

“So, considering I don’t actually know why you’re here, do you want to tell me why you’re here?” Harry asked once they’d ordered and had sat in only half-comfortable silence for a moment or two. Draco shrugged.

“Neville Longbottom had a book he was interested in selling,” the blond replied. “Of course, the book is now in my undetectably extended pocket, and Neville has a nice sum of money in his purse.” Harry nodded.

“Was it a particularly interesting book?” the brunette asked, honestly interested in what book Neville had sold.

“It was definitely rare, to be sure,” Draco answered. “Most copies have been destroyed in some way or other – mold, fire, other damage – but the only reason anyone would want it would be its rarity, because it’s not particularly useful anymore. It would be interesting to historians to look at how Herbology has evolved since the book was written, but beyond that? It’s not really that interesting. Honestly, though, Longbottom is unnervingly good at negotiations.” Harry nodded, knowing how persuasive Neville could be, and how stubborn he could be, too.

“How about we come back tonight for drinks?” the brunette suggested, glancing at Albus, who was thankfully engaged in an unrelated conversation with Scorpius. “We could both use the chance to unwind, and it would no doubt give you a bunch of fodder to use against me. I am unfortunately verbose when drunk.” Draco laughed a little and shrugged.

“Why not?” the blond replied, smiling. “You've already seen me drunk, but now it's your turn to embarrass yourself. You've got your fodder, and fair's fair.” Harry realized that this must have been difficult for Draco to bring up the incident with his hair, but nonetheless, both men laughed, and proceeded to agree upon a time to meet back up at the pub that night. Both of them also realized the potential this had to go in several very terrible directions.


	8. Braxton's Pub

“If we’re going to get properly sloshed and avoid making headlines, we should probably go to a muggle pub. I know of one in east London. Don’t make that face! It’s not the most posh place in the world, but I know the barman. He’s a nice blok- Will you stop making that face, Malfoy! It wouldn’t kill you to _not_ be an entitled prat for one night.”

Draco rolled his eyes slowly and dramatacilly before picking a piece of lint of his color and giving Potter the most incredulous look he could muster. He may be a changed man, but no Malfoy in there right mind had ever stepped foot in an EAST LONDON pub. Honestly… Who did Potter think Draco was? Some shoddy excuse for a wizard, Gryffindor?

“Potter, I have never stepped into an establish-“

Potter scoffed angrily.

“Really? Are we going to do this? Because I thought we could have a civil time together, but I will punch you in the nose if I have to, Malfoy. We’re in Hogwarts. It’s the perfect place to relive the _glory days.”_

Draco pursed his lips in a perfect representation of McGonagal’s best stern expression.

“I suggest a muggle place near-“

“Are you scared, Malfoy? Can’t handle a few little muggles?”

“That’s not going to work, Potter. I’m a grown man.”

Harry Potter crossed his arms.

“I bet you five galleons that you are too scared to step foot in that Braxton’s, and ten more that you won’t stay to have a drink with me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and gave in to his urge to take Potter on. After all, so many years of rivalry could not be overcome easily.

“Fine. Let’s go. I’ll transfigure my clothes and meet you at the first apparition spot in Hogsmede. Make sure to bring 15 galleons, Potter. I don’t make bets with people who can’t pay.”

* * *

 

 Draco walked into the dingiest place he’d seen in a long time. There were only three tables aside from the bar, but there were still about 25 or so people, mostly men, crammed into Braxston’s pub. There was grime coating almost every inch of the place and the blond wondered how on earth Potter came to find this place. Especially since the customers seemed a bit…. _unpolished._

Draco followed his companion to the bar and studied him as he threw down muggle money and spoke to the barman with an alarming familiarity.

“Braxton! It’s been almost a year, hasn’t it? How’s the wife?” Draco could not believe this was the same man whom he had shared dinner the night if the inci- Best not to think about that.

“Well if it isn’t James Evans! HEY! YOU SODDING LOT! IT’S JAMES EVANS!” A cheer arose from the crowd and a few men clinked they drink together. “The little lady is doing fine. She’s pregnant.” Braxton broke into  a bright grin before his eyes landed on Draco. He frowned. “Who’s this? He looks like he’s stepped in a pile of dung.”

Draco scowled, but Potter simply laughed.

“He’s an old school buddy. He’s not so bad once he’s had a bit to drink. Do you mind getting us a few beers and six shots of the strongest _anything_ you’ve got?”

Braxton gave a hardy laugh and went about getting their drink. Once everything was settled, Potter led Draco to a small table in a corner that Draco hadn’t seen before. The brunette bantered a bit with the two men occupying it and they soon stood to give him their seats.

What on earth was going on?

Draco settled in his chair and turned his grey eyes on the man sitting across from him.

“So… _James Evans,_ why exactly are you so popular here?”

Potter, or Evans, motioned for Draco to drink so the blond took a small sip of his beer. He wasn’t planning on getting drunk tonight. He didn’t want to make a fool out of himself again.

“Well, to be honest, when I was going through my divorce with Ginny, I took to apparating in random places and just walking. I came by here once and Braxton saw the state I was in and well… He got me drunk, he sobered me up, and then he told me to get over her and find myself a new woman.” He laughed. “So I told him I was gay and he was surprisingly fine with it. Even told me to go out and get myself a man. So! Shots?”

They each did three shots each and while the ex Auror was ordering more drinks, Draco made sure to poor his out. The result was a very drunk Harry Potter and an only slightly tipsy Draco.

“And then I says, I says, you dun knows me! I’m Harry bleedin’ Potsers! So’s he turns h’self in.  Das when I said goodbye to Aurors. Least kids are a challenge.”

“I had always wondered why you quit.”

“An ‘laggen’s there. Can’t work with that prick. You need to visit lots in the summer. I can’t handle him without you.”

Draco smiled. He liked drunk Potter. He was a bit like normal Potter, except he didn’t insult Draco and he rambled a lot about gnomes in the garden. Though to be honest, Draco hadn’t completely followed that story.

“Well, Potter, I think it’s time we go. It’s one in the morning and you are completely sloshed. I think the evening has been a success.”

Potter nodded lazily and stood up shakily, almost falling over. Draco put an arm under his shoulder and helped the man shuffle toward the entrance. They would have made it had it not been for an ill timed step. Draco stepped on the shoe of an unknown man and was immediately pushed back.

“Watch it, fancy man.”

“We just want to get goi-“

“What’d you say to Draco?”

Potter pushed the man, whose face was getting redder by the second.

“ _James,_ it’s fine, really. Let’s just go home.”

“I never liked you, Evans. You always come in here, chat up Braxton, and act like you own the place. Well you ain’t nobody, Evans. Now get your little girlfriend and get out.”

“He’s a man an girls are not a bad thing!”

The drunk Potter punched the man square in the nose and suddenly all hell broke loose. Everyone was throwing blows, kicking, yelling, and Draco Malfoy was caught in the middle of the fray, trying to find Potter when his cashmere jumper was ripped by a sweaty bald man with a face tattoo.

“Fuck it.”

Draco turned and kicked the man right between his legs before letting out a battle cry that would be worthy of King Arthur himself. He threw himself into the fray and at one point even found himself accidentally hitting Potter. The whole mess was disorientating, sweaty, and sure to muck up his shoes, but Draco Malfoy had not felt so alive, so very _not bored_ in a long time.

* * *

 

“Idiot. I can’t believe you did that. Here, have another pepper up potion while I clean this.” Harry Potter winced as Draco dabbed a cut on his jaw with healing salve. “What on earth are you going to tell your students? Or our sons?”

Potter groaned miserably.

“You got hurt too. Why am I the one in trouble?”

“Because you started the brawl. Plus, I already said goodbye to my son today. The only person I need to explain myself to is Granger, and I’m sure she won’t be happy to know where you took me on our dat- our outing.”

Draco dabbed a few more cuts and scratches in silence while Harry winced and moaned pitifully.

  
“Why am I more hurt than you?”

“I used my wand toward the end when it got particularly nasty.”

Potter frowned. He seemed upset that he hadn’t thought of doing the same.

“I just wanted you to loosen up a bit. I’ll take you to Braxton’s wife’s restaurant next. It’s one of the best restaurants in Britain. Five stars.” Draco rolled his eyes and began to put away the various salves and potions he had used on Potter. “I’m serious. I’m really sorry. From now, it’s only the best, okay?”

Draco turned to look into the wide green eyes that shown brightly at him and he gave up on being angry.

“Believe it or not, I enjoyed myself. I haven’t felt that great since we spent Christmas tormenting McLaggen.”

They both grinned at the memory.

“Draco, I’m still a bit tipsy.”

“Do you want another potion?”

“No. I just wanted you to know why I’m going to say this.” The brunette grabbed the blond’s hands and smiled. “You have a fantastic arse.”

Draco couldn’t stop his eyes from widening and his jaw from dropping.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a prat, a git, and terrible company when sober, but I like that. And you have the best arse I have ever seen.”

Draco could have told Potter that he was attracted to him. He could have kissed him. Hell, he could have even stayed silent, but instead…

“WHAT KIND OF COMPLIMENT IS THAT, YOU IDIOT?”

The inebriated Potter laughed uproariously and Draco grinned.

“It’s an honest one. Prat.”

Draco shoved the brunette who winced and flicked the blond’s nose in retaliation.

“It’s bruised! Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t push me. And stop complaining, baby.”

“You were wincing the whole time I was tending to you, Potter!”

“Call me Harry. After tonight, I think we’re there.”

“Fine. And you can call me Mr. Malfoy and show me some respect.”

Draco smirked.

“I’ll call you Dray-Dray and tell embarrassing stories about you in front of your son’s class. One time, children, Dray-Dray had to go out into the Forbidden Fore- Ow! Git!”

They poked and flicked and shoved each other  like two young friends, forgetting their age, their titles, and any bad history they had between them. Then, just as Draco was about to relent, Harry grabbed him by his hair and gave him sloppy, wonderful, Gryffindor kiss.

It was the most intoxicated that Draco had felt all night.


	9. Embarrassment

The morning after getting absolutely piss-drunk with Draco Malfoy, Harry woke up with a raging headache despite all the Pepper-Up Potions Draco had poured down his throat. At least he could remember what happened. Considering it was a Sunday, he had a blissful day to recover before going back to classes, which unfortunately meant that he had to sit on the events of the previous night without distraction. He went over them in his mind repeatedly, lingering especially long on the kiss – that sloppy, half-drunk, brash, wonderful kiss. He’d wanted nothing more than to drag the snarky blond into his bedroom and shag the living daylights out of him right then and there, but Draco had insisted on heading home, and even tipsy, Harry had known better than to push his luck.

After sitting on the kiss for about two hours, the brunette finally got himself out of bed and cleaned up marginally, showering and getting dressed without bothering to tame his hair. All of this only afforded him more time to linger on the kiss, and by the time he sat down at his desk to grade some papers, he had a throbbing erection that he desperately wanted a snarky blond to help him tend to. In the absence of such a blond, he decided to ignore the throbbing in his trousers and focus on grading those papers, which took longer than it needed to in between adjusting what became a painful, and eventually numb, dick and pair of balls. He finished grading the papers, however, and was faced with nothing else to do. He pulled out a piece of parchment to write a letter, then stopped with the quill halfway to the ink bottle, unable to decide who to write the letter to.

He could write to Hermione – she’d be able to help him figure out his feelings towards Draco, help him figure out exactly why he’d done what he did, help him work through everything.

He could write to Draco – he’d be able to provide some perspective on what had happened, and would probably provide some kind of return of his feelings.

There were problems with writing to Hermione – she was often too analytical, not nearly emotional enough, and had a business relationship with Draco that she would probably see such a relationship as being detrimental towards.

There were problems with writing to Draco – he might not return the feelings, and might even want nothing more than to avoid Harry at all costs, considering his behaviour after the incident with Harry’s hair.

Once he’d sat with his quill in midair like that for upwards of twenty minutes, trying to figure out who to write to and what, exactly, to say to them, Harry threw the quill down on his desk, got up, and made his way to the greenhouse, where he knew Neville would be tending to the plants, fascinated with them, as always. As Harry entered the glass building, Neville was watering individual plants, and looked up at the sound of the door.

“Oh! Harry!” the Herbology professor exclaimed upon seeing who had entered. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. If it’s about Albus or James, they’re both doing fine in Herbology, although neither of them really has a knack for it.” Harry shook his head and sighed.

“It’s not about either of them,” the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor replied, heading up the aisle towards his friend. “This is more about personal things than about school things. I’ve got some things I can’t figure out.” Neville blinked and raised his eyebrows, then reached under the table and brought out a second watering can, which he magically filled with water.

“Well, if you’re going to talk, you might as well help out,” Neville said, handing the second watering can to Harry and going back to his plants. “Don’t you usually just write Hermione about personal things, though? I’m hardly her, really, I’m just the Herbology professor.”

“You’re my friend, Neville, and friends talk to each other,” Harry replied, beginning to water the plants on the opposite side of the aisle from Neville. “Besides, I’m not sure I can talk to Hermione about this, and I don’t know what I’d say to her that would give her the right idea about things.”

“Sounds like it’s really bothering you, whatever it is,” Neville remarked. “Care to tell me exactly what it is?” Harry sighed, nearly overwatering one of the plants.

“It’s Draco Malfoy,” the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor explained. “He’s got a fantastic arse, and we got drunk last night – well, I got sloshed and he got tipsy – and I kissed him, and I don’t know what to do. He insisted on going home after it, saying something about having business to attend to in the morning, but I just want…I don’t know what I want. I want to talk to him, sober, about what happened. I want to talk to him, but I’m afraid he’ll pull away more if I try to talk to him. He got drunk one night and ran his fingers through my hair, and after that, he pretty much ran away until yesterday. I don’t want the same thing to happen again.”

“Harry, you need to talk to him, that’s obvious,” Neville started in reply, staring down into his plants. “So just do it. Write to him, set up a time for him to come to the castle and talk to you, one on one, in private. You won’t feel alright until you do, and you won’t know where he stands until you do, either. So, once you’ve finished helping me with these plants, go back to your office and write to him, tell him that you need to talk to him and it’s just up to him when that happens.” While Neville was speaking, Harry had felt himself start shaking as he fully realized the truth of what his friend was saying. The truth scared him in a way, because the truth put the responsibility of figuring out what, exactly, was going on in Draco’s hands. Harry swallowed his pride and nodded, even though Neville was facing away from him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry said, hoping that Neville didn’t hear the same shakiness in his voice that he did. “Once we’re finished here, I’ll go write to him.” Neville smiled, and as they finished up with the plants, helped Harry to figure out exactly what to say in the letter to impress on Draco the urgency of the need to talk.

_Draco,_

_We need to talk about what happened, and we need to talk about it soon. We can’t just leave it be. Let me know when you’re free as soon as possible, so we can set up a time to talk. You can’t run away from this, we need to talk about it._

_I look forward to your reply._

_Harry_

After several read-throughs, Harry talked himself out of crumpling up the parchment, and instead, went to the Owlery to send the note off to Draco, trying to control his shaking enough that the bird wouldn’t bite his finger instead of the letter. Once the bird finally had the letter in its beak and flew off, Harry went back down to his office and slumped down in his chair, hoping beyond hope that the blond would reply promptly. He argued with himself internally, panicking that he had said all the wrong things, that he’d just ensured that Draco would never talk to him again, that the positive relationship they had been building had just been dashed all to hell.

Having the blond’s reply in his hands didn’t make him any better, and so, instead of opening it immediately, he sat at his desk panicking for another few hours. When he finally did open it, he tore the envelope to pieces. It didn’t actually matter what the note said by that time – Harry was so panicky and shaky that he couldn’t even comprehend the contents, and instead, just sat there, staring at the words that made no sense, which made him panic even more. He needed to relax, needed to calm down, and thinking about Draco and his perfect lips and his perfect arse and his perfect eyes and his perfect hair would do nothing but give him another erection. He decided to go for a spin on his broom to calm down, and read and reply to the note when he had calmed down significantly.


	10. The Three Broomsticks

_Draco,_

_We need to talk about what happened, and we need to talk about it soon. We can’t just leave it be. Let me know when you’re free as soon as possible, so we can set up a time to talk. You can’t run away from this, we need to talk about it._

_I look forward to your reply._

_Harry_

 

Draco wiped his palms on his trousers, failing to keep any sort of composure, and hurried to his study to pull out a quill and parchment.

 

_Harry Potter,_

_~~Meet me~~ _

_~~Last night was~~ _

_~~I believe that we shou~~ _

 

He crumpled up the parchment and grabbed a clean sheet.

 

_Harry,_

_I’m not running away. Meet me in Hogsmeade at 8pm. The Three Broomsticks. If you need to patrol the castle tonight, make a deal and try to get out of it. I’ll be waiting._

_Draco_

 

He folded the parchment, rushed to the Manor’s owlery (why on earth the Malfoys ever needed so many owls was beyond him), and then stood in front of Cornelius, waiting for the strength to send the note.

 

Or perhaps he _could_ run away. He could continue his business from France and fly Scorpius out during holidays. He could make sure he never had to deal with this whole messy business ever again... But there was one problem. The problem of a gorgeous man who had drunkenly kissed him. But what if he wanted to talk to say it was a mistake? What if he didn’t want anything more to do with Draco? What if what if whatifwhatifwhatif... Fuck.

 

He tied the note to Cornelius, gave him a treat, and apparated away. If he was going to get dumped (or shagged) by Harry Potter, he was going to look fabulous as it happened.

 

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy sat up straight and calmly in The Three Broomsticks, wearing designer purple robes that contained an obscenely high thread count. His hair was slicked back expertly with a small strand falling over his forehead. The strand was placed there to give him a sophisticated yet relaxed look. His face was flushed from the cold, but it was not too red and his eyes were the perfect brightness. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy could do, it was look amazing. He had it down to a science. There was no way Harry Potter would go home that night alone. Not if Draco could help it.

 

Harry walked in, his hair messier than usual and his eyes wide with worry.

 _Good,_ thought Draco, who had taken a calming potion an hour in advance. He wanted to have the upper hand. He had done his panicking, and now it was time to let his Slytherin side out.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello. Would you like to sit down?”

 

Harry nodded and plopped on a chair across from Draco, graciously accepting the butterbeer the blond slid toward him.

 

“Thank you. Have you been waiting long?”

 

“Not too long.” The brunette nodded and took a gulp of his drink before glancing around anxiously. “Hiding from someone?”

 

“What? Oh. No. I’m just not really used to this. I feel like people are watching me.”

 

Draco leaned back and smirked, causing Harry to frown.

 

“Aren’t they always?”

 

“What? What are you doing? What are you wearing?”

 

Draco took a sip of his firewhiskey and shrugged casually.

 

“I came from a business meeting with a very important client. I had to look my be-”

 

“What the bloody fuck are you playing at, Malfoy?”

 

He blinked. What? Playing at?

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously, tell me right now so I can leave, but I’m not going to sit here and get fucked around with by some idiot Slytherin git who places more importance on whatever fucking expensive hair gel they wear than on the person they are supposed to be having a real conversation with!” hissed Harry. His eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you for years. You don’t think I’ve seen you play this act in Hogwarts? I’m not a snooty little Slytherin school girl. I’m not a star struck Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw looking for a challenge. I’m not even a Gryffindor anymore. I’m a teacher. I’m an adult.”

 

Draco stared openly, physically restraining himself from letting his jaw drop. Nobody had ever called him out like that. Nobody had ever been able to withstand his charm.

 

“I’m charming, Potter. Deal with it.”

 

“You’re a git. Deal with it.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Go to Hell.”

 

Draco slammed his hand on the table and Harry lurched forward, gripping the expensive robes in his strong fists.

 

“You are crumpling my designer robes, cretin.”

 

They stared at each other and suddenly both men were standing up, and making their way to the door. Both threw a few coins on the table and walked as fast as they could without drawing too much attention to the nearest apparation point.

 

Draco couldn’t help but smile. This is what he liked most about the impulsive brunette. He was never boring.

 

“You didn’t really think this look would work, did you? Not on me.”

 

“You are walking awfully quickly for someone who is impervious to my tricks.”

 

“Fuck yourself.”

 

“No. I think I will be fucking you.”

 

“Shouldn’t we have a real conversation?”

 

They reached the apparation point and Draco brought his arms around Harry’s back, pulling him close.

 

“Did you like the kiss?”

 

“Merlin, yes.”

 

“Me too. Glad we discussed this.” 

 

And so, with one hand on the Chosen One’s arse, Draco Malfoy turned and apparated them both straight into his bedroom.


	11. The End of their Denial

As soon as they appeared in the blond’s bedroom, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were lip-locked, shoving articles of clothing off of each other’s bodies and discarding them throughout the room. They separated briefly to tug their shirts off over their heads, in too much of a rush to undo any buttons, but were once again practically glued together. Draco shoved Harry against the wall as they both fumbled with their trouser buttons. Draco was only slightly faster at Harry at getting his open, and when he found the brunette’s hands still fumbling at his fly, the blond sunk his teeth into his lover’s shoulder, and Harry moaned, his fingers fumbling still at his fly. After approximately half a second more of that, Draco swatted Harry’s hands away and finished opening the brunette’s fly, shoving both of their trousers off their hips, suckling and licking at the spot on Harry’s shoulder that he’d bitten hard enough to leave a mark.

“God, Draco,” Harry breathed, practically writing against the wall as they both stepped out of their trousers and kicked them aside. The blond smirked, grinding their erections together and nibbling on Harry’s neck, eliciting a moan from the brunette. Draco shifted his mouth back to Harry’s, and the brunette pushed gently, manoeuvring them both towards the bed till Draco’s legs hit the bed, and they toppled together onto it, Harry straddling Draco’s hips and moving his kisses down the blond’s jaw towards his neck. Draco moaned quietly for a moment, content to feel Harry’s erection rubbing against his through the layers of their pants, until a mischievous thought wormed its way into his head, and he grabbed Harry’s hips tightly. He felt the brunette smirk against his skin, thinking it was a desperate move to get their dicks even closer together, but when Draco started shifting, the lips disappeared from his skin, and then there was no real processing of expression because Draco was flipping them over so that Harry was on his back instead, his legs wrapped around Draco’s hips.

“Move your legs, we’ve still got our pants on,” the blond instructed, leaning back for a moment and shimmying his own pants off, kicking them over towards his trousers, as Harry somewhat gracelessly removed his own pants and flung them in an indeterminate direction that was simply _away_. As soon as Harry finished spazzing with his underwear, Draco dove back in, holding the brunette’s hips rather roughly as he proceeded to tease and bite at Harry’s nipples and chest. The brunette writhed and moaned beneath him, trying to reach down to play with their erections, to give himself some relief. Draco reluctantly released Harry’s hips in favor of pinning his hands above his head. “No touching. You’re not coming until my dick’s up your arse.” Harry whimpered pathetically, but nodded anyway, though he wriggled his hips, sneakily trying to get some friction on his ostensibly-throbbing member. After a few moments more of this torture, Draco sighed and relented, getting up and heading for his nightstand.

“Draco?” the brunette called quietly, pushing into a sitting position in the absence of a snarky blond to keep him pinned against the bed. Said snarky blond smiled gently as he opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of Muggle lube. At the sight of that little bottle, Harry’s concerned expression turned confused. He started to ask a question, but Draco cut him off.

“There are spells and such to accomplish the same thing,” the blond explained, crawling onto the bed, “but I find this to be so much more intimate and satisfying. You don’t mind, I hope?” Harry mutely shook his head in reply, shimmying fully up onto the bed as Draco motioned for him to do so. The blond gently pushed the brunette back onto the bed, settling between his legs again. Draco poured some of the lube onto two of his fingers, which he brought down between Harry’s legs and with which he began to tease at the arsehole of the saviour of the wizarding world. Said saviour grabbed Draco’s shoulders and pulled him down to snog him, in order to sort of distract himself from the fingers now starting to probe gently, one at a time, past his external anal sphincter. Draco then slipped his tongue into Harry’s mouth at the same time as he slipped a single finger into Harry’s arse past both sphincters, spreading the lube further inside. The brunette moaned into Draco’s mouth, bucking his hips up to draw the probing finger in deeper. Draco willingly obliged, slipping his finger in further and beginning to pump it in and out. Harry broke their kiss, moaning and tightening his fists around the sheets. Normally, the blond would have complained about the wrinkling in his sheets, but just then, he didn’t really care.

“More,” Harry gasped, in between keening moans, pre-come already leaking from the tip of his rock-hard dick. “Please, Draco, more…” Draco smiled gently and nodded, probing with the second lubed-up finger before slipping it in alongside the first, beginning to scissor the two fingers in addition to thrusting with them. When Harry started whimpering again, Draco slowly removed his fingers from the brunette’s arse and poured some more lube into his hand. After giving his dick a few short strokes to completely coat it with lube, the blond lined up the tip with Harry’s arsehole and pushed slowly and gently in. Harry gasped, his fists tightening in the sheets, and bucked his hips up to pull Draco’s dick further and faster in. The blond took the hint, and sped up a bit, pausing for a moment once he was fully inside. When that paused stretched on for half a moment longer than Harry would have liked, the brunette quietly moaned the blond’s name, which seemed to shake him out of his head, as he pulled out a bit and slowly pressed back in.

The pace picked up quickly enough, and within a few minutes, both Harry and Draco were frantically thrusting their hips together, Draco’s teeth sinking into Harry’s shoulder in an effort to keep them both grounded in reality, Harry’s nails dragging down Draco’s back in an effort to drag the sweaty blond impossibly closer. Draco reached down and started stroking Harry’s dick, eliciting a loud moan from the brunette, who felt his orgasm looming and let himself give into it, his body shuddering as he came into the blond’s hand, his arse clenching and spasming around Draco’s dick, and he felt the blond come deep inside of him not so much by the fluid entering his body, but from the cessation of movement. Neither man moved for what seemed like an eternity but which was actually about forty-two seconds, at which point Draco finally pulled out and lay down next to Harry, wrapping his arms around the brunette and burying his face in that dark, messy hair. After carefully extricating himself from the bed, he pulled on some clothes and went to the kitchen, starting to make pancakes. Harry stumbled into the kitchen somewhere near halfway through the batch, leaning against the doorway and rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, his hair somehow even messier than normal, his clothes having been scavenged from the floor and hastily thrown onto his body.

“What time is it…?” the brunette asked, his words slightly slurred with the lingering remnants of sleep. Draco glanced at the clock on the wall and winced.

“A little past noon,” the blond replied, and his words were met with a truly impressive string of curses. “At this point, you might as well stay and have some pancakes. McGonagall will be just as angry either way, so stay, eat, and I’ll take the blame for your lateness and your missing class.” Although this did nothing to erase the panicked look from Harry’s face, it did coax him into a chair at the kitchen table. They ate quickly, apparated to Hogsmeade, and made their way to Hogwarts. Somehow, McGonagall was at the gate to meet them, and she looked very cross indeed. Despite the fact that both of them were grown men, and they both knew what they were going to say, both Harry and Draco hung their heads in shame like sheepish schoolboys about to be told off.

“I should have known you would have something to do with this, Draco,” the headmistress started with, her arms folded over her chest. “Harry, I am thoroughly disappointed in you. You missed three classes today! Three! I called in a favor from an Auror who happened to be in the area, and luckily, she found your lesson plans for those classes and was able to follow them, but if there is ever another incident like this, there will be serious consequences!” Draco lifted his head and cleared his throat, though it wound up being a much meeker sound than he had intended it to be.

“It was entirely my fault, Headmistress,” the blond explained. “I talked Harry into coming out with me last night, and circumstances conspired to make him spend the night at my flat.”

“While I am happy that the two of you have finally stopped completely denying your attraction to each other,” McGonagall started, making both men choke on air, “I cannot tolerate a Hogwarts professor missing classes. It will not happen again. Now, Potter, the next class is about to start, and I would appreciate it if you would relieve the lovely Auror who agreed to help. Mr. Malfoy, while it is nice to see you, I must ask that, for now, you leave the grounds. Mr. Potter will be available again this evening.” With that, the headmistress of Hogwarts swept back into the castle, and Harry followed sheepishly, glancing back over his shoulder at Draco as he went. The blond decided that he would definitely be visiting the castle again that night.


	12. Fin

Draco knocked on Harry’s door and heard a clatter of what he assumed were books crashing to the ground.

 

“Is everything alright in there?”

 

There were a few seconds of scuffling, a grunt, a strange squeak, and then at last the door opened.

 

“Draco Malfoy. Hello.”

 

“Granger?” The bushy haired witch was red faced and clutching the cloak around her as if her life and the lives of all her loved ones depended on it. “Oh, Merlin. Don’t tell me you and Potter were having a go at it, because I’d really hate to upset Scorpius by murdering one of his schoolmates’ mother.”

 

She chucked nervously and inched the door closed a bit.

 

“Harry’s not here. You should check the room of requirement.”

 

“Oh.” Strange. “Alright.” He stared at her flushed cheeks and wide eyes and a horrifying thought came to him. “You aren’t...You weren’t... Weasley isn’t in there is he?”

 

Hermione Granger choked a bit before answering in a rather high pitched voice.

 

“Harry asked us over to talk about a few things and we were all simply talking and then Harry left and Ron is out too. Must be getting something from the kitchen or something. Well, goodbye!” The witch slammed the door and Draco was left standing alone, horrified, as he heard the familiar voice of Ronald Weasley?

 

“Do you think he bought it?”

 

“Ron, shush! He might still be out there?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Come back to bed!”

 

Hermione giggled and before Draco could hear anymore, he sprinted away from the door and in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

 

* * *

 

 

“Would you like a bit of tea?”

 

The room of requirement had transformed itself into a small, but comfortable flat, with a kitchen and bathroom for Harry’s comfort. It was decorated with soft, warm colours, save for a Slytherin banner and a Gryffindor banner that were hung on the wall behind the sofa.

 

“What exactly is this? I understand that it’s the Room of Requirement, but why does it look like this and why were Weasley and Granger having sex in your room?”

 

Harry laughed and handed Draco a cup of tea before making his way to the sofa.

 

“I suppose they find it exciting to do something like that in the castle. They don’t know that I know, but it’s fine. I spend most of my time here anyway. Sometimes I have it look like the Gryffindor common room. It isn’t the same as it used to be, but with Hermione’s help, I’ve managed to restore most of the room’s properties. Right now it looks like my flat. I feel strange staying in a teacher’s room. I always wonder who else had slept there before me. Snape? Dumbledore? ...Lockhart? It makes me uncomfortable.”

 

Harry took a sip of his tea and Draco assumed that that was his cue to start talking.

 

“I see. Well, I thought I would come to talk about what happened this morning. You seemed upset when McGonagal scolded us.”

 

Harry laughed.

 

“A bit, but it was actually fun. It felt like I was 16 again and was caught out of bounds. Don’t worry.”

 

“Oh. Alright.”

 

Draco wasn’t sure where to go from here. He had planned an entire speech to appease Harry after the morning’s incident, but he hadn’t planned on Harry not being upset. Perhaps he should just have sex with the man? What did couples do? It had been so long for him... And were they even technically a couple? Or... What?

 

“You look like you are trying to figure out the function of a rubber duck.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Nothing. Listen, I wanted to talk a bit about us. Everything has happened a bit fast and I was worried. I had Hermione and Ron visit so that I could talk to them about it and of course they just told me to talk to you. So here I am, gathering my courage. Er... Are we... Is this actually going somewhere? I mean, our kids know and I’m not sure what to do with that. It would be confusing for them if we were a casual sex type of thing and I’m not sure what to tell them as is. Do we speak to them together? Do I speak to my son alone? And what do I say? You know, I never really-”

 

Draco smirked as Harry’s babbling got more and more frantic. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one with questions.

 

“Potter.”

 

“What do people in relationships even do? I mean, not that this is a relationship, but should we do something? Should we tell our kids it was a mistake? Or that you only spent the night with me because we were going over something for Hermione? Or maybe-”

 

“Potter!”

 

“I- Yeah?”

 

“Why do you have a Slytherin banner next to your Gryffindor one? Does your actual flat have them as well?”

 

Harry looked up behind him at the banners.

 

“Oh. No. Those must have appeared when you arrived. That’s strange.” His brow furrowed, and he was obviously trying to work out why the room would have reacted that way.

 

“I think we are a real couple. I fancy you. A lot. And I think we should spend our summer with the children in my vacation home.”

 

“Why would you ask about the banners and then spring that on me? Are you playing games again, Malfoy? You even called me Potter earlier.”

 

Draco smirked.

 

“No games. Not yet. I was thinking we’d keep those for the bedroom.” Draco wasn’t sure where his sudden confidence had just come from. Perhaps it was from hearing Harry’s adorable babbling, but he was now suddenly sure of where their relationship should go next and that was France. Yes. Definitely France. ...But first the bedroom. Preferably a bedroom where Granger and Weasley had not had sex before...

 

“No games? You want me and my children to spend the summer with you in...wherever your vacation home is?”

 

“France.”

 

“Right. You realize that my children have a mother that would want to see them, and that I have to spend time with the Weasleys and-”

 

“Alright alright. A week in France and we can leave the children at the Weasleys.” Draco grinned. This was an even better plan. He put his tea on a small table to his left and moved closer to Harry, placing his arm around the brunette. “And you will be my boyfriend and tonight we will have massive amounts of scandalous sex.”

 

Harry coughed on his tea before putting his cup down and staring at Draco.

 

“I’m serious. If we are going to do this, it needs to be a serious relationship. My kids needs stability and I-”

 

Draco kissed Harry. It turned out to be a poor move because the man pushed him off and quickly got to his feet.

 

“I need someone stable! If you just want sex then we can’t tell anyone! Actually, then we can’t be together.” Harry nodded, his eyes suddenly fiery. “That’s right. I don’t want a casual relationship. It’s all or nothing with me, Draco. You decide!”

 

“Bloody idiot. I’ve already told you. I want you. As my boyfriend. I’ll be your boyfriend. It will be serious. We can even buy disgustingly adorable matching jumpers if you like. We’ll date. We’ll fall madly in love and we will get married. But for now, for Merlin’s sake, let me shag your brains out. Who knew you’d be so fuckable when all worked up?”

 

Harry gaped before running a nervous hand through his hair.

 

“Love and marriage?”

 

“Love and marriage. And fucking. A lot of fucking. Preferably every day. Twice. Yes. Twice a day.” The blond grinned and grabbed a hold on Harry’s hands. “How do you feel?”

 

“Well...” Harry finally smiled. “I feel like getting shagged.” The brunette’s smiled grew mischievously and he lead Draco to a bedroom that, thankfully, had never been touch by either Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger.

* * *

 

Scorpius and Al sat down excitedly. They both knew what was about to happen and they couldn’t help but be proud of themselves.

 

“This is because of us you know. And Rose I guess. But mostly us!”

 

Al laughed.

 

“Yeah! We’re going to be brothers! They are probably going to tell us they are getting married!”

 

Scorpius gasped.

 

“Already?”

 

“Why not? They’ve known each other since they were our age!”

 

“Be quiet, Al! They are coming back.”

 

Al’s dad walked in the room with Mr. Malfoy behind him.

 

“Thank you for waiting boys. Mr. Malfoy and I wanted to chat before talking to you two together.”

 

Al grinned expectantly and he nudged Scor with his elbow. The other boy was trying not to giggle.

 

“Well, as you both have noticed-” started Mr. Malfoy or father as Al might soon have to call him. “-Professor Potter and I have become friends over the past few months and we would like to become more than friends.”

 

“Are you getting married!” Al couldn’t help himself. He blurted out the question without even think and it opened a floodgate.

 

“YEAH!” yelled Scorpius. “Are we going to be brothers?”

 

“Can we move into the mansion? I want to have three rooms.”

 

“If he has three rooms, then I want three rooms too!”

 

“But we should share one!”

 

“Oh, father! Lets knock down three walls and make a giant room for me and Al!”

 

“With a telescope!”

 

“You want a telescope?”

 

“I don’t know. But we should get something.”

 

“Why a telescope?”

 

“I don’t know! Dad! I know! Let’s get a dog!”

 

“Yeah! I want a dog!”

 

Harry and Draco were stunned into silence by the two bouncing boys in front of them.

 

Harry was the first to speak.

 

“Boys boys. We aren’t getting married. We aren’t moving in together. We are dating. We are just dating.”

 

The two boys quickly lost their smiles and frowned. They didn’t understand why their fathers would date. Hadn’t they already done that sort of?

 

“No. You have to get married.”

 

“Before summer.”

 

Harry laughed and turned to Draco.

 

“At least they took it well.”

 

Draco swallowed.

 

“I suppose... but I am not getting married this summer. I’d have no time to plan a wedding in such little time.”

 

“That’s an interesting reaction.”

 

“Shut up Potter.”

 

“AND WE CAN GET A CAT AND THREE OWLS!” shouted Al, trying to get back the adults’ attention.

 

“NO. FOUR OWLS AND A HORSE!”

 

“BUT STILL A CAT!”

 

“BUT I HATE CATS! YOU SOUND LIKE ROSE!”

 

“ROSE SHOULD LIVE WITH US TOO!”

 

Harry smiled and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, leaving the children to decide on just how many animals they would eventually want.

* * *

 

“Dad! Can we buy sweets! Can we, please? Scor and I want to take some back to Rose.”

 

“Not now, Al. We still have a museum to visit.”

 

James cleared his throat.

“Please, dad? We’re tired of museums.”

 

Harry looked at Draco who shrugged before turning to Scorpius.

 

“I suppose you should lead the way. You’ve bragged enough about knowing the best sweet shops in France. It’s time you’ve proved it son. Show the Potters what real quality is.”

 

Scorpius laughed and ran off, James and Al running closely behind.

 

“Shouldn’t we follow them?”

 

Draco smiled.

 

“It’s that shop just over there. We can afford to walk.”

 

Harry saw his children go into a store less than a block away and rolled his eyes. Draco must have planned this.

 

“Your Slytherin is showing.”

 

Draco smirked.

 

“Shut up and kiss me before they come back.”

 

Harry wrapped his arms around the blonde and the two kissed without having to hear a chorus of “eewwww” for the first time that day. It was soft, sweet, and perfect. It was everything Draco had been wanting for years without even realizing it and to top it off, with Harry, he never had any reason to be bored. 


End file.
